Date: Mon, 18 Jun 2018 17:39:41 -0700
From: Alinea Pilcrow <pilcrow.alinea@gmail.com>
Subject: Paternal Fruit Part 1

Paternal Fruit Part 1

Pilcrow Alinea (pilcrow.alinea@gmail.com)


Author's Note: This is an original work of adult fiction featuring graphic
descriptions of consensual homosexual acts between consenting adults who
are related. If such acts disturb you, or if you are not of legal age to
read stories intended for adults only, you should stop reading immediately.


This is an erotic work written and presented free to you, the reader, by
the Nifty Archive. It cannot be distributed, modified, or otherwise used
without express written permission of the author. Please consider donating
to Nifty.org as the site continues provide a safe, free space for creative
endeavors for the enjoyment of those who wish to explore or otherwise enjoy
sexual expression of the type depicted here.


If you enjoy this work, I would love to hear from you. Send me your
thoughts, impressions, comments, fantasies, and anything else you'd like to
share: pilcrow.alinea@gmail.com


--


His heart thunders in his ears at the erotic sight before him. No matter
how he heaves, pulling in breath after breath, he can't seem to get enough
air into his lungs. He knows what he is bound to do. The thought has him
shaky and excited. His cock is all steely and wet and dripping with the
seductive depravity of it all. His fingers go to his straining head and
adjust it in his low-cut briefs. The same fingers tremble as he rakes them
through his short-cut locks.

His fate was sealed the minute he realized just how intoxicated the man
lying before him was. He rarely drinks. Definitely not like this. Something
must have happened on the way home from the site.

He had come out of the shower, towel around his neck, sweatpants and tank
top clinging to his damp body, to the sight of the man sprawled out on the
futon, chest rising and falling rhythmically. He smiled and shook his head.
How unlike him. He pulled off the slumbering man's boots and tossed them
aside. He had released the latches on the futon to flatten it out and make
him more comfortable. It would be difficult to coax him into his bed at
this rate. Better to let him sleep it off until morning out here.

It had started innocently enough. And then, he had allowed his eyes to fall
to the bulge inside the older man's tight bluejeans. The way the bulge
curved upward just slightly, the outline of his member diverging from the
heavy sac, had done him in. He had licked his lips, heart suddenly
pounding. Something inside him fell away. All rationality, all reason
seemed to slip from him. "Maybe. Just maybe..." he dared to think. The man
was really sleeping hard. "Just a little bit..."

The man's legs are open in a sort of 'V' shape. He is breathing in deep,
rolling breaths from his abdomen. Even in the dim glow of the streetlight
coming in through the long horizontal sliver of window at the top of the
wall in the front room where they are, Jonah can see the older man's strong
jawline with a dark shadow of brown stubble from the week spent on a job
site out of town with too little sleep. No doubt, he was persuaded to have
a glass or two with friends from work to celebrate a job well done and a
break before heading out to the next site. He never ate enough when he was
away. He had probably drunk his beers or whiskey on a nearly-empty stomach.
Foolish though it was, Jonah was glad for it now.

The older man is solid, all muscle and sandy locks with some gray strands
and sharp angles and brown stubble. Jonah himself is lithe and almost
raven-haired. They look so little alike, save the coffee-brown eyes and
angular jawline. Jonah has taken after his mother.

He kneels down in the 'V' between the man's legs and pulls his socks away
revealing large feet with a smattering of downy hair. He licks his lips at
the sight, suddenly desperate to suck at the toes. He resists the urge,
knowing that one wrong move will prove disastrous. His treasure slumbers at
the crux of the legs splayed out to either side of him.

The belt buckle rattles as his thin fingers force the tooth through the
leather, and he pulls it open. The jeans are tight and the bulge is heavy.
Jonah pulls at the stubborn button. It gives way and he makes quick work of
the zipper. The sound of it slicing through air makes him gulp in
anticipation. He quivers in a mix of excitement and fear. This isn't right.
But it is. God, if it isn't more right than anything he's ever felt.

The briefs underneath are thin and gray and silky. He savors the warmth
that fills his palm when he presses it against the bulge. It is warmer than
he had ever imagined. It is meaty and thick and immediately mesmeric. Jonah
feels himself falling under its sexual spell. A slave to furtive lust and
an aching need in his own loins, he reaches up both hands to grasp the
waistband and lift it up and down to free the object of his desire.

And now he sees the forbidden fruit in its magnificence. It lies, turgid
from an instinct as old as mankind itself. The instinct to fuck. The
instinct to pump its hot essence into a waiting orifice. The instinct to
dominate and to seed. To give pleasure and take what it needs. Savage.
Rough. Strong. Even as its keeper slumbers under the weight of the dram he
has imbibed, it courses to life with the innate virility and masculine
energy Jonah seeks.

The musky smell wafts at him. Jonah takes down his own tight jeans and
peels away his ankle socks before returning to his knees to examine the
object of his desire. He kneels in his tight briefs before the man he loves
best. He is seized by the aching need to have it in his hands. Before he
can even stop it, his right hand goes there and holds it. The weight and
girth of it, and the faint ridge of his glans tempt Jonah. A masculine
force pulses in his palm and the warmth of skin heats his hand at once. He
stifles a moan in his chest and pulls back the foreskin. His father is
uncircumcised, a peculiarity for that generation in the rural American town
where Jonah and his dad have shared an apartment for the 10 years since the
divorce. Still, Dad emigrated from a part of Europe where, even then, the
senseless ritual was an obscurity.

Jonah had realized early on in middle school that both he and his father
were different down there from his classmates and the guy on the team. He
had showered at school and after practice. In their modest apartment, Jonah
and Dad shared a bathroom, and it was not uncommon for Dad to come away
from a shower toweling off his hair, uncut dick hanging down from its nest,
fat and proud. Dad had often spoken casually to him as he stepped into his
bedroom and pulled thin briefs up to cover his tight cheeks. Jonah
sometimes snuck into the bedroom to open the hamper and smell these thin
strips of cloth. When he got older, he recognized the smell of excitement
his father left behind from time to time, no doubt on nights when he had
gone out. At these times, Jonah would feel a twinge of jealousy at the
women his father was no doubt meeting mingled with his desire. Once, he
even let himself lick at the cloth, tasting the tang of precum and
masculinity.

It was at the kitchen table of this apartment that Jonah studied for his
driver's test and later studied for exams in a technical program at the
local college before going to work in the same industry as his father. He
made a better wage earlier on thanks to that piece of paper. It was at the
same table that they had recently toasted Jonah's twenty-first year with
expensive Scotch he had choked down and his father had said would put hair
on his chest. It was in this apartment, too, that he had awoken to a love
for his father that ran deeper than he could ever have imagined, a respect
and a hero worship that kept him up at night, stiffened prick in his hands,
and that compelled him to sneak peeks at the older man in the shower when
he could.

Now, he is not peeking but drinking in the sight of the meaty, substantial
cock in his hand. It is swollen now, and longer, almost scalding with the
heat of an instinct to mate. Jonah pulls back at the foreskin to reveal the
purple head and then lets it glide back into place, a pearl of his father
beading and streaking down the piss slit. Jonah lunges forward, instinct
hijacking his brain and forcing him to touch the tip of his tongue to the
silky, hot skin.

Tang and sweet and salty. Vintage Dad. Better than any Scotch. He brings
his lips to kiss the tip and indulges his need to suckle at the
fountainhead of life that made him. Jonah reaches to clasp at the manhood
from which his lips are sipping and his other hand goes into his own shirt
to find the aching pebble of his nipple. His need to be touched and taken
is almost maddening. If only his father would wake up and take him--hard
and rough and without regard for the bonds of morality--he could lose
himself in this man, the object of his admiration and worship for so many
years of unrequited lust.

Jonah lets his tongue scrape along his father's slit, letting salty-sweet
ribbons if precum ooze out from the thick head of Dad's dick. His fingers
work and pinch at his own nipple. He feels his cock drooling precum and
knows the carpet is soiled with the sticky traces of his lusty neediness.

The cock on his lips is titanium hard and yet velvet softness to his
tongue. He lets his hand jerk the foreskin back and forth over the swollen
head, his reward for his ministrations coming as more delicious wetness and
musky fragrance. Jonah lets his jaw muscles soften, and he gulps down more
of the head before taking part of the shaft, servicing more of the older
man, inch by inch. He is pleasuring Dad, and Dad's cock is honest in its
appraisal of his oral skill. It appreciates and accepts his pleasuring,
letting go of more and more drool. The slippery head is so engorged, it
looks painful. Jonah wants this never to end.

Jonah gasps. Long, solid fingers have snapped with steel grips at his
triceps, and now, they dig into them. The smell of Belgian beer wafts to
his nose from just above his head. A low growl assaults his hearing in the
twilight.

"Boy, what the fuck you think you're doing? Hmm?"

Jonah looks up, letting the manhood slip from his lips. His balance
crumbles beneath him and he falls back on his ass with a bang. He hears a
rapid gasping and realizes the sound is his own desperate plea for air. His
erection has withered, his hand instinctively raised to shield him from any
blow to his face.

"Answer me, goddamn it," his father demands. Jonah yelps as he is yanked up
by the armpits in the muscled arms of his father. He is standing, toe to
toe, crotch to crotch, with the man who laid the seed to bear him, the man
whose thick rod he had been worshiping against all decency and without
permission.

"The fuck you think you're doing down on your knees like a whore, sucking
my cock when I can't say no, hmm? You do this before to me?"

There is a wildness to the demand in the man's eyes. A confusion, a shock,
a panic--perhaps even a fear. Dad's eyes dance from point to point on
Jonah's face, searching desperately for an answer. Why? He grips Jonah's
arms with such a vice grip he must be leaving bruises. Jonah cannot find
his voice but shakes his head back and forth. No, he's never done anything
like this before. Dad has to know that he hasn't.

"How dare you, boy? Hmm? You think you can just take me with your mouth?
When I can't stop myself? Hmm? You showing me how you act like a whore in
heat--can't control yourself? Can't tell right from wrong? This is wrong,
goddamn it. You're my son. I love you, damn it all."

"I love you, too, Daddy. I love you! OK? I'm fucking in love with you...
Please, don't hate me..." Jonah sobs, collapsing into the broad, muscled
chest of the man standing before him. And then, the vice grip on his arms
gives way to a steel-like embrace. The older man's hands circle around him,
squeezing him tight and close to his chest now. One hand rakes through his
hair, tugging at the ends, and the other is rubbing his back in calming
circles.

"Shh... Nobody hates you, my boy. Nobody says anything about hate now. You
see? I'm sorry I yelled. Okay, son? Forgive me. Please don't cry... Oh,
Jonah... Damn it, boy--why would you do that?"

Jonah pulls himself into his father. Instinct takes the wheel again and he
grinds his sex into his father's cock. His cock is ramrod straight and
slides, if reluctantly, across Dad's naked penis through the thin fabric of
his briefs.

"No, Jonah... Why?"

Jonah pulls in close to Dad's neck and suckles there. The skin is salty and
musky and absolutely intoxicating. "Daddy, I love you..."

"No, my boy... You're confused. This can't be--" Dad pulls him back and
rests his hands on his son's shoulders. He is just half a head taller than
Jonah, but he seems to tower over him as he speaks.

He frames Jonah's face on either side with his palms, holding his cheeks.
He peers into the young man's eyes.

"You're just confused, son. Just lonely. You'll find some nice girl..."
Here, he hesitates, "Or some nice boy, yes?" He strokes Jonah's cheeks and
smiles, his coffee-brown eyes crinkling at the edges. It is a weary smile,
one of pity and worry.

Jonah shakes his head and reaches out to grasp the most sensitive part of
him. This, he strokes boldly, gently. "No, Daddy... I'm not confused. For
the first time... I'm being honest. With myself. And now with you. I
shouldn't have... I'm sorry. I know I didn't have the right to... to touch
you. Not when you couldn't say no. But, I needed this. I needed this so
bad. Please, Dad... Just let me. Nobody knows but us. Nobody can know. Just
let me take care of you. Please, Daddy. Let me show you how much I love
you. Not just as a son. As a man... I need to worship you like this..."

Before his father can raise another objection, Jonah sinks to his knees,
cock in hand and mouth on head. His father stumbles back at the assault and
holds Jonah's shoulders tight for support. He is swearing under his breath
now, a litany of fucks and sweet Jesuses and goddamns attesting to the
onslaught of forbidden masculine pleasure seeping its way now through his
defenses.

"Dathy... I ruff you..." Jonah chokes out, his mouth stretched obscenely
around his father's fuckpiece. He looks up, eyes still wet with tears and
mouth full of the cock that made him. The juxtaposed vulgarity of seeing
his son servicing his tool and the vow of filial piety is too much. Dad
nearly lets go of his seed all at once in Jonah's mouth. Instead, his hips
instinctually thrust forward, burying his cock to the hilt in his own son's
mouth and allowing him respite from the mouthfucking.

"Slow, Jonah..." he hisses out. "Nice and slow. Fuck my dick with your
mouth. That's it. Just like that. Milk it like that."

His vulgar coaching has Jonah drooling from both places. His mouth waters
and his cock drips as he works more and more of the fuckrod into his throat.

"Yeah, work it like that... Jonah, this is so wrong. Fuck, I need it,
though. I need you like this," Dad confesses, fingers going to work at
Jonah's sensitive nip. He slips them through the long armholes of the tank
top and pinches and strokes the skin.

Jonah is on fire now. The raw pleasure of his own father's fingertips
rolling his nipple back and forth nearly sends him over the edge. Jonah
reaches up to help Dad stroke the little nips. Dick in mouth, he holds his
dad's strong hands over his nipples and guides his fingers to stroke and
tease in the way that sends jolts of pain and pleasure to his dick. He
moans, "Mmm..." in appreciation and then stands.

His mouth leaps forward to connect with Dad's, and his tongue wraps at the
end of Dad's own tongue, letting the taste of the older man bloom there.
Dad groans and stokes Jonah's back. He suckles at the taste of his own cock
on the young man's tongue. Jonah's hips thrust forward, betraying his need.
Their cocks, both pointing proudly to the ceiling, connect with a slapping
of skin. They rub and glide with the wetness of pleasure and saliva.

"Yeah, Daddy... Fuck..." Jonah moans into their kiss. Dad nods and rakes at
Jonah's short locks with his fingers even as his tongue begins fucking the
young man's mouth. Jonah is gurgling with pleasure when Dad's hand goes to
both their rods and starts jacking them together.

"Together, Jonah, together now..." It is a command. Jonah rolls his hips
back and forth, up and down, rods wet and hot and musky with primal need.
Dad strokes up and down the shaft but ignores the heads, instead letting
their frotting stimulate their frenula and coronae there. Jonah's cock is
sloppy with precum. He can feel it dribbling onto Dad's cockhead and steals
a glance at his drooling kiss slit. He strokes the length of his index
finger across his slit and let's the wet digit strum across Dad's slit,
their juices mingling. Traces of him are in Dad now, inside the cock that
first pumped traces of itself to make Jonah.

"Fuck, Dad... You're so goddamn sexy..." Jonah whispers against their
kissing lips. "Fuck me, eh? Just open me up and fucking take me."

Dad moans and his fingers go to both of Jonah's nipples and begins rolling
and rubbing them. It's Jonah's turn to moan and to whimper, his fingers
going to Dad's broad chest and the plum-colored smears there. He pulls away
from their kiss and his mouth drops to one nip.

"Shit..." Dad swears. "You're so good at that... Goddamn." He strokes the
back of his son's head and reaches down to stroke the long, thin dick of
the young man.

Jonah feels a sob of pleasure catch in his chest. "Oh, yeah, Daddy," he
moans against Dad's nipple, his teeth falling on the nub. Dad hisses in
reply and the fingers of one hand go to Jonah's asscrack. Jonah reaches one
hand back to Dad's fingers there and helps them find his tight, clenching
hole.

Jonah feels Dad's arms at his shoulders again. Dad mashes his lips against
his before flipping him around onto the futon. Jonah crumbles, his face in
the sheets, ass in the air.

Dad slaps at Jonah's milky ass and then launches his face tongue-first into
the mancunt before his eyes. Jonah screeches and screws his eyes shut.
"Noooo, Daddy... That's dirty... No, Daddy. Stop... Please."

"Not a chance," Dad cooes and continues screwing his tongue into the young
man's tight hole, flicking it back and forth with an obscene, moist
squelching. He rakes the flat of his tongue up and down it, rendering it
moist and soft. Next, his thick, long digit snakes its way into Jonah's
mouth while Dad tongue-fucks his cunt. "Suck."

Jonah suckles at Dad's finger, recalling immediately the flavor and texture
of the big dick that Dad is jerking now. He moans and drools on the finger,
which disappears now. Jonah lets his left hand sink to his loins and work
just the head of his cock, foreskin slick and wet from need and the heady
freedom of the act. He revels in the delicious liberation of doing these
deeds with Dad. He feels his cockhead let go of more precum when he let's
himself think that he and his father are breaking taboos together. He is
free to savor the pleasure of going beyond the bonds of any taboo right
here.

He feels his cock drool when the pad of Dad's finger broaches his fuckring.
"Daddy... Fuuuuuck..." he moans. "Fucking fuck my ass..."

"You like that, boy? Hmm? Yeah, you like Daddy's finger in your tight
little cunt, yeah?"

Jonah has never heard these words from Dad, didn't even realize they could
be part of his vocabulary. He nods and feels the strength drain from his
arms. His face falls to the sheets, cheek against cotton and head turned to
one side. He is ready to be taken.

"Please..."

Dad's tongue and finger are working his hot hole, and at the word, they
hesitate.

"What do you need, my beautiful boy?" Dad slurps at his hole, tonguing the
flesh.

Jonah hesitates.

"You need something bigger in here? Hmm?"

Jonah nods.

"Tell Daddy what you need here... He won't keep anything you."

Jonah thrusts his ass against Dad's finger. "Right there..." The man's
strong digit has bumped against the right spot now. "Finger fuck me,
Daddy... Make me feel good."

"I could never say no to you, you know..." Dad whispers, and then his
tongue is fluttering against the tight opening as his finger plumbs the
depths, stroking against Jonah's pearl. "You need another finger in here,
hmm?"

Jonah nods. "Just make me feel loved, Daddy... I feel so good. Yeah,
Daddy..."

And then there is another, coated in precum and saliva, inching its way in,
flush against the first. The pressure of two fingers against his canal, the
feeling of two pads against his prostate has Jonah sobbing and pinching his
own nipples now. His cock is drooling against the sheets, soiling them, and
his fingers are torturing the sensitive nips of flesh on his chest.

"Fuck me?" he pleads. At the word, the fingers slide back and then come
down again on his prostate. Jonah sees stars and cries out. "Oh my god,
Daddy..." And then the fingers fall away from his ass. Jonah feels himself
being spun around again, his legs splayed open, his father looking down at
him from his place between his legs.

He is a handsome man. It is the face Jonah looked up at when he first
learned to throw a ball and the kind brown eyes he saw smiling at him when
he held his diploma in hand. The angular jaw is clenched now with need and
desire. The eyes are looking at him, quizzical now.

"What's wrong, Dad?"

He shakes his head. "This is... You know, Jonah... We might regret..."

Jonah leans forward, his abs rippling beneath the taught skin of his
stomach, and kisses his father before he can utter another word. The older
man makes no move to stifle the kiss.

"It's OK, Dad. We don't ever have to speak about it again... If you don't
want to..." Even as he says the words, Jonah knows he is likely telling a
mistruth. He cannot imagine going back to the way things were. Can't
imagine not being taken by his father with regularity and with rough,
unbridled passion. But when your head is filled with the fog of lust and
pressed on by instinct, you say what you have to say. "Take me... Daddy, I
can see you want me. I'll do it whatever way you want. I'll make you feel
so good, I promise. You can force me. You can just use me... And you can
just tell yourself it was a bad dream from too much beer. It's OK. It
doesn't have to mean anything tomorrow."

He father laughs now. He brings his face in close and bumps noses with
Jonah. "I don't want to force you, Jonah. I want you to want to give it up
to me. You know what? It's not OK, what we do now. It's wrong... But I know
if we don't finish it, we will also regret. We will always think what might
have happened."

Jonah nods and nuzzles Dad's nose before kissing him with open mouth. He
suckles and pulls at the man's upper lip, inciting a whimper. Jonah loves
the sound of it.

He reaches out for his father's fuckrod and massages the head, coaxing the
precum from it. He goes to nurse at a nipple, hot and swollen. He lets his
father's embrace overtake him.

"I want to fuck you so I can see you, Jonah, baby boy" Dad confesses. "I
need to see your eyes watching me fuck you." Dad strokes his hair as he
nurses at his nipple. "But Jonah, I can't promise I'll pull out... I get
carried away, sweet boy."

Jonah stops nursing and brings his lips to Dad's again. Their lips smack as
they share more smoldering,  forbidden kisses.

"I want you to seed me, Dad. Shoot your seed up my guts. And then, keep
fucking me with your cum running down my crack... Ruin me for other men,
Daddy... Fuck me and don't stop until you come again from the feeling of my
hole slippery with your cum. I need you to take what you need from me and
give me your hard cock. I need you to show me how much you love me, how
much you want me, too."

And then, it is done. The deal is sealed. Once more, Dad is lapping at
Jonah's tight hole, spitting on it, massaging it. This time, Jonah is
staring up at the ceiling while he revels in the knowledge that the tongue
at his hole belongs to the one man he should never let touch him like this.
The only man he wants to be touched by like this.

The train of thought is cut short now. The fat cock presses against the
tender opening of Jonah's ass. Dad leans over him, taking his lips in
sloppy, wet kisses as his dick slides against the opening and then breaches
the seal. There is a hot flash of pain and Jonah cries out. Dad's tongue
works at Jonah's mouth and his hands take his nipples and begin kneading
them roughly. He massages the nips and the pecs underneath. Jonah moans at
the rough, possessive way Dad strokes and grabs at his muscular tits.

"Fuck me, Daddy..." Jonah pleads, sexed up by the sudden onslaught of
pleasure in his nipples and the heat of tight, raw, forbidden discomfort in
his ass. In the seconds of distraction, Dad inches his cock forward into
his son's opening. "Fuuuck..." Jonah whispers. "Fucking fuck me, you fucker..."

Dad groans at the verbal abuse and sucks at Jonah's nipple now, nibbling at
it and flicking at the other nub with his free hand. Jonah grasps at his
father's hair, tearing at it and pressing his head into his chest. The
exquisite tightness of the fuckpiece in his ass gives way to the feeling of
fullness as Dad bottoms out in his cunt.

"Ahhh..." Jonah whimpers. "Fuck, Daddy... Fuck, your dick is so fucking big. So
fucking hot and big and I can feel it moving in me..."

Dad moans at the vulgar talk. "Jonah... Feels good?"

"Feels fucking incredible, Daddy... Don't stop. Please, move... Just nice and
slow. Please, Daddy, fuck me long and slow. Just like that." Dad is already
inching along his son's inner self, working the fuckpiece Jonah long
admired and lusted for back and forth along the soft canal. Jonah closes
his eyes and lets Dad take his lips again in a kiss. Dad's an old softy, he
remembers. He must be a romantic sort of lover, too. Lots of kissing, lots
of licking, lots of confessions of love and adoration.

"Is it good for you, Daddy? You like being in your boy? Hmm? It's so
fucking good for me..."

Dad nods into the kiss now, pressing his cock to the hilt against Jonah's
tight cheeks. They are joined. Father and son. Lover and beloved. Man to
man. Jonah delights at the thought. The forbidden pleasure threatens to
overwhelm him, send him flying off, never to return, unable to function in
normal society again. The aching need he is filling, the itch Dad is
scratching within him--they are all he cares about, all he can think of now.

"Oh, Jonah... You are so beautiful, my boy. Your body... You were always fit,
but..." His hand goes to stroke his son's ridged abdomen. "My god, boy--you
are a beauty. And your kind heart..." Dad showers him with kisses again. "Are
you OK? You feel good?"

"Mmm..." Jonah nods. He lets Dad embrace him, hold him tight, as he rocks
back and forth in his own son. "Yeah, Daddy... Daddy, you're so sweet to me...
Fuck me... It's OK now. You can take what you need."

At that, Dad starts to rock back and forth, bottoming out and then pulling
back. Jonah feels the tip ramming at his prostate, his dick letting go of
more and more wetness. "It's OK, Dad. You can lie on top of me," he offers.
And then, he is rewarded with the feeling of Dad relaxing on top of him,
pressing their bodies together. The fuckrod continues its volley of heated
taps against his love button, the speed picking up.

Jonah opens his legs and lets Dad reposition himself, standing and leaning
into Jonah. Spread eagle and staring up at his father, Jonah reaches up to
stroke and pull at the nipples of the man who is still buried inside. "Fuck
me... Make me come with your cock up my cunt, Daddy..."

Dad leans forward on the balls of his feet and eases back into Jonah, his
pelvis knocking against Jonah's ass and sealing them together again. He
takes his son's lips and then begins to drill down, pulling back and coming
forward to meet his prostate. Again, again. Soon, he is thrusting, his
balls slapping against Jonah's ass.

"Fuck... Oh, come on, fucker," Jonah cajoles him. Dad moans at the nasty
title and takes Jonah's wrists, pinning them against the futon above
Jonah's head as he thrusts forward and up, mashing the head of his bare
cock into his son's tender spot. The spongy head and the tender pearl are
an ethereal pair, made to kiss and touch in just this way. The pleasure
exudes from their union and the frenzy of feelings drives both men wild.
Dad lies atop his son again, settling into missionary. They kiss and trade
saliva, mumbling profanity and vulgarities and vows of love and commitment
to each other in turn.

"You like that, hmm? You like your own daddy's big dick up your twat? Hmm?
It's OK, baby... Just answer me honestly. It's OK to tell me what you like."

"Yeah, Daddy. Yeah, I fucking love your cock up my ass..."

"I'm getting close, my baby boy... I'm gonna let it go soon, my sweet boy...
Fuck... You want my seed up inside?"

"Yes, Daddy... Please..."

Dad pulls him into a deep kiss, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and
lapping at it. The older man then pulls his bottom lip between his own and
strokes his cheek. Jonah hears his father moan into the kiss and knows the
need and intoxicating homoerotic love is mutual.

"Daddy, I love you... I love you so much... Fuck your little boy, Daddy.
Please... Ah, ram your big, fat cock up my tight little hole. Take me,
Daddy. Make me feel my own ass split open on that big fucking dick..." Jonah
pleads.

"Oh, fuck..." Dad groans. "I'm gonna come... Gonna come right up that sweet
little fuckhole. I love you, Jonah... I love you." He leans forward and Jonah
feels the rush of manly pride and love and primal homoerotic desire and a
deep masculine affection flowing into him. His heart races, and he feels
himself let go of the pleasure that has been building in his abdomen. The
effect is instant, creamy ropes of hot cum and desire and filial love
drenching both their abs.

"Yeah. Oh, yeah, Daddy. Your little boy can feel you... Oh, God, I'm getting
filled up with your spunk..." Jonah moans before his mouth is filled again
with a thrusting tongue. The older man finally allows himself to whimper
and moan freely, baring his need and vulnerability and pleasure fully,
perhaps for the very first time.

Dad collapses on him, sticky with Jonah's desire and covered in sweat.
Jonah strokes his hair and holds his other hand to the older man's ass,
pinning his father to him, ensuring his cock does not depart from him and
that the warmth his cock has breathed into him stays deep inside his center
of gravity.

"Daddy... That was amazing... I love you so much..."

Dad nods into another kiss. The notion that they have partaken from the
forbidden fruit they had long admired at arm's length is beginning to
revive his softened cock now. It's going to be a long night. He hopes Jonah
is willing and ready to try again. Somehow, he feels the plea would find a
very willing participant for more father-son lovemaking. Only one way to
find out. He reaches out for Jonah and gazes into his eyes. There, he sees
a Yes.